


Prelude to the Final Battle

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6068566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sereda Aeducan is shaken after finding out exactly how an archdemon is killed.  It's not herself that she's most worried for if she dies, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude to the Final Battle

Sereda is reeling from Riordan’s revelation.  The Grey Wardens keep so many secrets, and no wonder: there are a lot of catches involved. 

She’s almost ready to die tomorrow, though, or even almost ready for Alistair to do so, as cruel as that may seem.  The both of them have had bullseyes on their backs far too long for her to have ever expected that they both would survive the final battle.  Ancestors, she’s surprised they both made it to the final battle.

There is one person that she worries about, however.

“Come with me,” Sereda says, slipping her hand into Zevran’s larger one and tugs him forward.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise; usually she’s a little more discreet in public.  “I would follow you anywhere.”

“I’m only taking you up to the roof,” Sereda warns.  And then back to her bedchamber, but there’s no reason to get him overexcited yet.

Zevran follows her, making only minor comments about the shapeliness of her backside.  They climb up to the roof, finding a secluded spot well away from any guards who may be interested in what a Grey Warden and a former Antivan Crow are doing together on the eve before the greatest battle of their lives.

“I had never seen the stars before my exile,” Sereda says, looking up and holding Zevran’s hand tightly.  “I thought they were a story topsiders made up, but they are so beautiful.  I never much minded when I couldn’t sleep in the tent, not when there was so much to see.”

“You put their beauty to shame, my lovely Warden,” Zevran says.

Sereda snorts.  She knows she’s not beautiful by many topsider standards- they seem to prefer their women slimmer and less muscular- and at first, she had assumed that Zevran had simply been flattering her when he commented on her appearance.  It’s always wise to flatter the person who holds your life in her hands.  Now, she knows that Zevran genuinely finds her attractive. 

“Do you doubt me?” Zevran asks, sounding mock-offended.  “I will recite more terrible poetry told to me by now-dead marks if you insult me so.”

Sereda looks up at him with a smile on her face.  “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you have multiple terrible poems at the ready, all taught to you by marks?”

“Because you are as cunning and intelligent as you are beautiful and strong,” Zevran counters. 

She remembers what he told her, about wanting to die after Rinna’s death.  If she dies, she doesn’t want to leave him broken.  She wants him to live- to really live, not just survive.  There’s no way to ensure that outcome, though, and it’s the one thing terrifying her about potentially dying.

“I want to thank you,” Sereda says.  “You’ve been an excellent companion, and I don’t know if we would’ve made it this far without you.”

“You certainly would have, my sweet, but I am glad that I have made the journey more _pleasurable_ for you,” Zevran says. 

“While, yes, you certainly are an excellent lover, that’s not what I’m talking about,” Sereda says.  “I mean _you_.  You’ve done a lot for me, and you mean a lot to me, and I want you to know that, just in case.”

Zevran surprises her by laughing softly.  “My dear, you are worried about your death?  Do not be.  You are a fierce warrior, and you will slay the archdemon, save the world from the Blight, and then be hailed as a hero by all the land.  I have never been surer of anyone in my life, not even myself- and you know how sure of myself I am.”

Sereda considers telling him what will happen if she slays the archdemon, but she just… can’t.  She doesn’t know how he will react, except not happily; she certainly wouldn’t be happy if he was the one who had to die.  That’s not how she wants to spend what could be her last night alive.

“Possibly a little _too_ sure of yourself, considering you failed to kill me,” Sereda points out with a smile.  That had been a real turning point in their relationship, when she realized that they could both tease each other about how they met.

“Perhaps,” Zevran says softly.  He reaches out to stroke her cheek with a callused hand.  “But I am glad that I failed.  You have freed me from the Crows, and given me a reason to live again.  I am grateful.”

“I want you to know that you were never disposable here.  I never considered you an expendable asset, and not because of your, ah, _assets_ ,” Sereda says.  She wants to be clear, just in case she never gets the chance to say it again.  “But because of you.”

Zevran leans down to kiss her, surprisingly chaste.  “You have demonstrated that many times.”

“I wanted to make sure I said it, too,” Sereda says, brushing her fingers through his soft hair. 

“You have, in many ways,” Zevran assures her. 

Sereda holds his hands tightly, looking up at Zevran.  She wants to remember what he looks like, carefree and sure and in love.  Beautiful and safe.

Except, no, that’s not quite right.  No one is safe until the archdemon has been slayed.

She pulls him back towards the door that leads to the rest of the castle. 

“Oh?  And where are you taking me now?” Zevran asks cheekily, as if he doesn’t already know. 

“A dashing assassin like you should probably be locked in the dungeon for safe keeping,” Sereda teases. 

“If you wish to make use of the chains, I am sure we could have them brought to your bedchamber,” Zevran quips.

Sereda snorts.  “I have other plans for you.”

“I do always enjoy your plans, whether they involving killing or lovemaking or one then the other,” Zevran says, squeezing her hands.  “Lead the way, my fair mistress!”

It makes Sereda’s heart ache because there’s at least one plan of hers that Zevran would definitely disapprove of.  But she says nothing of that as she leads Zevran through the halls. 

They’re slow and thorough with each other once they make it back to her bedchamber.  There’s a lot of things someone could say about Zevran, a lot of them terrible and most of them true- as he’d be the first to gleefully admit-, but no one could ever say he’s a selfish lover. 

It’s a couple hours of bliss, the next day almost wiped from her mind, but once they’re done and Zevran is asleep, it’s all she can think about. 

She looks over at her lover, curled up naked beside her.  He looks beautiful in the dim moonlight coming through the window, and as relaxed and at peace as she has ever seen him.  It’s soothing to watch him, and a sense of calm settles over her.  If she dies slaying the archdemon, it’ll mean that the Blight will be over before it starts.  It’ll mean he’s safe.  Even if he’s hurt by her sacrifice, he’ll be able to heal. 

“I love you,” Sereda whispers, brushing her lips over his shoulder.  “I hope you can forgive me.”

She takes a long look at him, sleeping so peacefully beside her.  There’s nothing else that she can do for him now, so she wraps her arms around him and tries to get some rest. 


End file.
